


She Won't Even Let You Finish the Question

by poor_dumb_killian



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 13:28:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4962385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poor_dumb_killian/pseuds/poor_dumb_killian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After David and Mary Margaret are forced to bail on a planned trip to London to visit David’s childhood friend, Emma decides to still go without them. Will her childhood crush on Killian Jones be a thing of the past, or will this trip solidify her feelings for good?</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Won't Even Let You Finish the Question

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zengoalie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zengoalie/gifts).



> Happy Birthday Amy!! You are already asleep... but technically it's still your birthday where I am (that counts, right?). I was actually intimidated by the UST-y prompt I picked for you, but this flowed out with ease. I hope you enjoy it! Big thanks to Chrissa for beta'ing this for me :)

It wasn’t anyone’s fault.

Mary Margaret’s dad, Leo, had been rushed to the hospital the day before the trip they had been planning for over a year. Obviously her and David had to go back up to Maine instead of flying out of Boston for London the next day.

_“No Emma, we insist,” David had said over the phone while he drove north, “We can’t get our money back for most of the trip, so you have to go and make the best of it.”_

_“It won’t feel right without you guys there,” she whined, “I barely even remember Killian from when we were kids. Why would he want to hang out with me when the whole point was you two catching up?”_

_“I promise Killian won’t leave you stranded,” David said, “He has that obnoxious good form.”_

That’s how she found herself walking (alone) through customs in Heathrow airport. David had given her Killian’s phone number, but she was hesitant to use it.

She said she barely remembered him, but it was a lie.

She was twelve years old and freshly adopted by Ruth Nolan when Killian exchanged places with the neighbor’s son for six months. He and David were both fifteen and became instant friends; they were inseparable for those short months.

Emma still hadn’t adjusted to life in a real family, so she was shy and reserved. Killian had a way of making her feel included - even though she was supposed to be the annoying, little sister - and because of that he became her first real crush.

_It was a chilly, winter morning. A fresh blanket of snow made their small town look clean and pristine. Emma was sitting in a chair in the corner of the living room, reading a book and trying to make herself invisible (an old habit from her foster days that was hard to break), when a voice in her ear made her jump._

_“Swan,” Killian’s accent came from behind her, “Stop being boring and come outside. Dave and I are building a snow fort and we could use your expert opinion.”_

_“Don’t scare me, you big jerk,” Emma laughed and smacked at him with her book while he playfully ran away from her, “I don’t know anything about snow forts, so I promise you don’t need my help.”_

_“Oh, I think we do,” his eyes were sparkling with mirth, so she couldn’t say no._

She pushed her way through the crowd and picked up her bags from the conveyer belt before she made her way towards the door where she noticed a crowd of people with names sprawled out on paper. She barely paid them any mind, until sparkling blue eyes caught her attention.

Her eyes flicked down to the sign in his hand; it said “The Swan” in frilly cursive. It was a nickname he had given her as kids and she had to withhold her chuckle as she took in his appearance.

He was wearing a black, motorcycle jacket with a blue button-up underneath (with at least three buttons undone) and dark, skinny jeans. His hair was just as disheveled as it was when he was fifteen.

The scruff was new.

It was well trimmed and peppered along his strong jaw.

The man was sex on legs and she was facing two weeks with him… _alone_.

She was in so much trouble.

* * *

 

Killian was nervous as he drove to the airport to pick Emma up. He checked her flight info before he left and knew she had landed, but would have to make it through customs.

He had been looking forward to seeing David and Mary Margaret, and was disappointed their trip got cancelled.

He and Dave had kept in contact after his short stint as a exchange student; but it was mostly through email - and more recently Skype. The last time he had seen them was when he was in the states for business three years before. He only had one evening to stop in for dinner and it was his first time meeting Mary Margaret.

She was perfect for Dave. Killian was so disappointed to miss their wedding last year; work wouldn’t give him the time off.

He hadn’t seen Emma since his last day as her neighbor - that was almost thirteen years ago.

Pictures of her popped up on the Nolan’s social media pages frequently, and she had grown into a stunning woman. He always knew she would, it was one of the reasons he called her swan.

He pulled into the parking garage and grabbed a piece of paper from his glove compartment to make a sign for her, just in case she didn’t recognize him. He agonised for a moment on what to write, before finally scribbling out “The Swan.”

He second guessed his decision the whole way into the airport. It was stupid; he was stupid. Why was he so nervous? It was just a woman he hadn’t seen since they were young. A woman that had grown from a pretty girl to a gorgeous vision of blonde curls.

No big deal, right?

He joined the crowd of people with signs congregated around the luggage conveyor belts and tried his best not to fidget while he held up his ( _bloody stupid_ ) sign and waited for her to walk out of customs.

Ten minutes later he had lost focus on the crowd while his mind wondered. He didn’t know what he was going to say to her and still hadn’t come up with anything witty; so instead he ran through all the plans he had made for the next two weeks. He was starting to get antsy, the longer she took the more nervous he felt.

Suddenly a flash of blonde caught his eye. She was already standing around the belt, surrounded by dozens of people, and looked none-too-pleased about being bumped about. She tugged at her luggage and hefted it over her shoulder before she started in his direction.

His first thought was that the pictures didn’t do her justice.

Her hair was pulled into a high-pony and swayed with her movements, and her eyes were even more green than he remembered. She had on comfortable clothing for her flight; a simple grey sweater that hung off her right shoulder and black leggings. He gulped hard as his eyes scanned down her long, shapely legs.

He knew the moment she spotted him. Her eyes grew comically wide for a moment before she glanced down at his sign. He wanted to kick himself all over again for his dumb idea - that was, until she smiled.

Bloody hell that smile could light football stadiums, it was so bright.

He waited patiently as she raked her eyes up and down his form. He wasn’t oblivious, these past thirteen years had been good for him physically; he grew into his lanky limbs and perfected the art of stubble.

He was never hurting with the ladies, something that he had taken full advantage of in his early twenties after a particularly nasty break-up. A few years ago he had given up on the endless nights of empty sex, but proved to be a top-notch wingman for his mates.

Emma seemed to finally shake her shock as she started to move tentatively towards him. He was speechless, and wanted to kick himself for not thinking of something funny to open their first conversation in thirteen years.

“Jones?” she asked with her brow raised as she stopped in front of him.

“Hello, Swan,” he said with a small bow, “Welcome to London, love.”

* * *

 

“Welcome to London, love,” his accented voice crooned to her as he dipped into a ridiculous bow.

The way the endearment rolled off his tongue made her knees weak. She felt like the twelve-year-old orphan girl all over again as a blush spread across her cheeks.

She had spent the entire flight trying to think of conversation topics for them, but all of her ideas left her mind immediately upon coming face-to-face with him again.

Luckily he saved her from having to respond.

“Let me take your bag,” he said as he reached for the luggage still slung over her shoulder.

She held it out to him, too stunned to protest ( _because she can carry her own bag - thank you very much_ ), and felt a jolt of electricity travel up her arm as their fingers brushed lightly in the exchange.

“The cars parked this way,” he motioned for her to follow as he turned towards the parking garage.

“Thanks for picking me up, Jones,” she said, having finally found her words, “I know I wasn’t the person you were hoping to spend the next two weeks with. You can just point me in the direction of most of the things you had planned for us if you have better things to do.”

She couldn’t fathom why he would be interested in spending any time with her. She wasn’t his childhood friend; she was the weird little sister. He must have better things to do with his time - she was even more convinced of that after seeing him.

The man could have any woman he wanted - and probably had them regularly - he wouldn’t want to waste precious time chauffeuring her around.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Swan,” Killian chided, “I’ve been planning this for a year just the same as you.”

“Yea, but you planned it to see David,” she pointed out.

“That was the driving-force, aye,” he said with a nod before a smile spread across his face and he side-eyed her. She thought for a moment she saw him perusing her body up and down, but that would be outrageous. It was just wishful thinking. “But I was also glad to hear you had joined in on the trip,” he hesitated for a moment before meeting her eyes with his, “You were my friend too, Emma. Ive missed you too, you know; not just your brother.”

The look in his eyes told her he was sincere. Emma had never done well with sincere moments, so she deflected. “Right, the closed-off little orphan girl. I was just so much fun,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh and shrug.

“You were pretty determined to make sure you weren’t included,” he chuckled, “But that’s why I always goaded you into joining us in our shenanigans.”

She had always been thankful that he had. Looking back now, she realized Killian was a big reason she got comfortable in the Nolan home as quickly as she did. He made her feel at ease for the first time in her short life.

She wished she could tell him how much it meant to her, but sincerity just made her too uncomfortable. “I wanted to pummel you so many times,” she chuckled, “You were annoying.”

His laugh came from deep in his chest as he threw his head back. “Aye,” he said, “I won’t argue with that.”

They made it to his car and drove towards her hotel as they continued reminiscing about their childhood. The conversation flowed easily between them, all of her worries about awkwardness flew out the window as they drove around London.

The traffic was crazy and she was thankful she had a native to navigate the mayhem. She could feel the pull of sleep calling her name, even though it was only 4pm back home in Boston. She was glad to see the hotel come into view.

Killian took her to a cafe next to the hotel for something quick to eat before bidding her goodnight in the lobby.

She collapsed into bed without much ceremony - she didn’t even have the energy to brush her teeth - and was asleep within seconds.

* * *

 

Killian had spent the last week showing Emma all of the sights London had to offer. They stopped at all of the tourist traps.

_“Swan, don’t even bother,” he chided, “You won’t get them to break. No one can make them smile.”_

_She didn’t listen as she made her way towards the palace beefeaters. “It’s like tradition, isn’t it?” she asked with a smirk, “I’m supposed to take a silly picture with them trying to make them laugh. Don’t be a fuddy-duddy, Jones.”_

_He bristled playfully, “I’ll have you know, I’m no fuddy-duddy, love.”_

_“Prove it,” she said, her eyes dancing with mischief._

_It was then he realized he could never tell her no._

After the palace, the eye and big ben, Killian decided to take her to his favorite local haunts. He even introduced her to his friends at his favorite pub.

She had gotten along great with them, and since that night he had gotten non-stop texts from the lot of them.

_Will: Oi, you wanker have you gotten the balls to kiss her yet?_

_Rob: If you don’t make a move before she flies back to Boston, you can no longer be considered a proper wingman._

_Tink: I haven’t seen you smile like that in years, Killian. Don’t screw it up... and PLEASE ignore the guys._

_Victor: If you don’t make a move, I will._

It went on and on. He had switched his phone to silent after it tried to walk off the table the next morning.

They had fallen into an easy friendship again, it was like there wasn’t a thirteen year void in their lives. But Killian found it more and more difficult to keep his growing feelings in check.

Everytime she threw her head back in laughter, he watched the long lines of her throat and wanted to know what that skin tasted like. As she ran her hands through her hair, his own hand itched to slap hers away and feel the soft curls for himself. When she bit her lip in thought, all he wanted to do was pull her to him and bite it for her.

He was good and thoroughly screwed. Dave would murder him if he knew where his thoughts were going.

Now it was time for the second leg of their vacation - they would be travelling up into the countryside and staying in little hotels along the way. Killian gulped hard as he thought about only a thin wall separating him from Emma.

It was easier to resist his inappropriate thoughts when she was asleep in the hotel down the street. But they would be staying under the same roof and his self-control was already dwindling.

* * *

 

Emma was having a blast. She couldn’t believe how quickly the trip was flying by; they were already two days into their country tour. She was on the last half of her trip and she didn’t want to go home.

It wasn’t just because she loved England or was enjoying her time off from work - it had more to do with the handsome man to her right. As the days ticked by she found it more and more difficult to concentrate when he was around.

He was her friend. No, worse - her _brother’s_ friend. And he lived an entire ocean away, she couldn’t have feelings for him, it was just her silly childhood crush resurfacing.

_Right?_

She was sitting in her room at the tiny little roadside motel they were staying at for the night. It was 9pm, which meant it was late afternoon for Mary Margaret. They had texted earlier in her trip (and she found out Leo was out of the hospital and recovering from his heart attack), but hadn’t had the opportunity to actually talk.

Emma waited as the phone rang, hoping she would answer. She really needed to talk to someone, and Mary Margaret at least knew the subject matter.

“Emma!” the cheery voice of her sister-in-law and best friend came through her phone and she sighed with relief, “I’m so glad you called! How is the trip going? Is Killian behaving?”

Emma rolled her eyes, because he was behaving. It was her that was entertaining the inappropriate thought of crossing the hall and barging into his room for a good R-rated romp.

“The trip is amazing,” she said with a smile, “But I wish you guys were here. How’s your dad?”

“Oh, he’s being his stubborn self,” she laughed lightly, “Refusing to take it easy and griping about being coddled. But he’s out of danger and on a strict diet.”

“Im sure he’s excited about that,” Emma said.

“He hasn’t stopped bitching,” Mary Margaret said.

They both laughed for a minute before a comfortable silence settled between them.

Mary Margaret was the one to break it.

“Sooooo -” she said, “You know I can hear you thinking all the way over here in Maine, right?”

“You can not,” Emma said with a snort, “stopping being ridiculous.”

“Oh, I can, Emma,” she said with a motherly tone, “Are you going to talk to me about it?”

Emma sighed dramatically and made some non-committal noises which earned a laugh from Mary Margaret.

“David isn’t around,” she said, “He’s out mowing the lawn for dad. So you can talk to me about anything.”

The tone in her voice wasn’t accusatory; but it was telling enough for Emma to know she figured out the subject of her thoughts.

“So you know how I always tell David I barely remember Killian?” Emma asked, trying to put off actually talking about her problems.

“Yea,” Mary Margaret said, “And I never believed it for a second.”

“What?” Emma asked in a high-pitched tone, “Why not?”

Mary Margaret snickered on the other end of the phone before she said, “Every time David mentions his name your facial expression gives you away.”

Emma was speechless as she tried to process this information. She always thought she had pulled off acting nonchalant, but maybe not.

 _Oh god_ , she thought, _had David figured it out too?_

Almost as if she was reading her thoughts, Mary Margaret continued on, “Don’t worry, your brother is totally clueless.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said. She decided playing dumb seemed best, “Clueless to what?”

She could picture the look of indignation Mary Margaret would be giving her right now if they were face-to-face. “Oh, please. You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

Emma remained silent for a few seconds, which was long enough for Mary Margaret to continue on her own, “You had a crush on him when you were kids.”

She was able to say it so simply, why did Emma always have such a hard time vocalizing the cold hard facts?

“And,” Mary Margaret paused for a second, apparently picking her words wisely, “I have a feeling that crush may have been renewed in the last week. Am I right?”

Emma sighed heavily as she fell back onto her bed with a dramatic thump. “Yes,” she finally admitted before backtracking as much as possible, “But it’s just a silly crush. The man lives an entire ocean away from me… it’s not like it’s anything I could really entertain.”

“Wait,” Mary Margaret said quickly, “The Emma Nolen I know wouldn’t care that he lived an entire ocean away, because she just likes to - and I quote - hit it and quit it.”

Emma didn’t know how to respond. Mary Margaret was right, she never thought beyond scratching her itch and getting out of there before he woke up. The few relationships she had tried in the past blew up in her face - since Walsh, she had avoided romantic entanglements.

She never thought beyond the here and now… so why was geography suddenly an issue? Shouldn’t she be thrilled she could literally fly across an ocean and never see him again?

“You like him, Emma,” Mary Margaret said.

“We established I have a crush, Mary Margaret. So, yea,” Emma deadpanned back.

“No, no that’s not what I mean,” she chided, “I mean you _like_ him, like him.”

“ _What_?” Emma shrieked a bit too loudly, “That’s ridiculous, Mary Margaret. It’s just a silly crush that I need to get over... nothing more.”

“If it was just a simple crush, you wouldn’t be dwelling on the width of the Atlantic Ocean,” Mary Margaret said.

 _Damn_ , she had her there.

Emma grumbled a bit, before sighing heavily and admitting defeat. “So what if I like him?” she asked, “It’s not like that will change the whole two-different-continents thing.”

Mary Margaret squealed - literally squealed - with delight after her omission. Emma pulled the phone from her ear in an attempt to keep her eardrum intact.

“Oh, Emma,” she said, wide smile apparent from her tone, “It’s so wonderful that you found someone you have romantic feelings for again.”

Emma snorted out a laugh, “Right, it’s so wonderful… except for the fact that it would never work.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Really, Mary Margaret?” she asked, “I couldn’t even make a relationship work in the same city. I would screw it up in no time.”

“Never say never, Emma,” she said, the motherly tone back. “Besides, addresses can be changed.”

Emma couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Are you suggesting I move to London because I have a crush on Killian Jones?”

“Oh, Heavens no,” Mary Margaret laughed before she sighed and mumbled, “When I promised to keep my mouth shut, I didn’t actually think I would have the occasion to.”

“What?” Emma asked, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I wish I could tell you,” Mary Margaret said, “But David made me promise to keep it a secret so I wouldn’t jinx it.”

“Remind me to give him a charlie horse next time I see him,” Emma sighed, resigned to not knowing. Mary Margaret always kept her word, so there was no point in trying to trick it out of her.

Emma heard the booming sound of her brother’s voice as he entered whichever room Mary Margaret was hunkered down in.

“There you are, Mary Margaret,” he said, “I was looking for you. Who are you talking to?”

“Emma,” she answered simply.

“Emma?” he asked, much closer to the phone, “Put her on speaker!”

She heard some shuffling before he spoke again.

“Hey little sis! How’s England treating you?” he asked, before adding, “Or more importantly, how’s Killian treating you? Do I need to fly over there to kick his English ass for anything?”

“No, no need to rack up the flyer miles, he’s been a gracious host,” Emma answered.

“Told you he would take care of you,” she could hear his warm smile, “Are you having fun?”

She talked to them for another ten minutes, telling them about the sights she had scene. She tried not to mention Killian too much or gush; David didn’t let on that he suspected anything.

“I have so many pictures, you guys are going to hate me when I get home,” she laughed. “The motel we are in right now has to be the oldest building ever. It’s a wonder it’s still standing!”

“I’m so sorry we’ve missed all of this,” Mary Margaret said, a hint of melancholy in her voice.

“You don’t need to be sorry, darling,” David said, she could picture the hug he most likely had his wife wrapped in.

“Yea, Mary Margaret, Leo was way more important than this trip ever was,” Emma added.

David said his goodbye to go take a shower, leaving Emma and Mary Margaret alone once more.

“You won’t tell him, will you?” Emma asked. Her voice sounded so small, reminiscent of the little orphan girl that would always be a part of her.

“Of course not,” Mary Margaret assured, “He may be my husband, but you’re my best friend. I’m here if you need to talk, OK?”

“OK,” Emma said, “Have a good rest of your day.”

“Thanks. Sweet dreams,” Mary Margaret replied, before adding, “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Emma tossed her phone on the charger and crawled under the covers of the old, creaky bed. Her mind was a mess of jumbled thoughts. If anything her conversation with Mary Margaret made it worse. Emma had hoped she would tell her she was being silly - that it was just a crush. Instead, she forced her to admit the complete opposite.

Thoughts of bright blue eyes and dimpled cheeks were the last thing to stream through her conscience before she finally fell asleep.

* * *

 

Killian laid awake most of the night.

The walls of the motel were thin; so it’s not like he could escape his eavesdropping. He was across the hall from her, so he hadn’t heard every word she said, but he heard his name a couple of times and enough of the conversation to get the idea.

 _She liked him, too_.

He rolled onto his side, tired of looking at the peeling paint on the ceiling, as snippets of her conversation rolled around in his mind. She was being held back by their geography; now he was even more interested in the position he just interviewed for in the Boston office of his engineering firm.

He told Dave a couple of weeks ago of the possible move, but hadn’t mentioned it to anyone else; not even his London friends. He was supposed to find out if he got the job sometime in the next week.

A little over a year ago he decided that a change might be in order. London held a lot of memories - not all good - and he wanted to move on from them. So, he waited for a position to open in Boston because it seemed like the best fit. Dave and Mary Margaret were there, so he would know someone right off the bat.

There had always been a little voice in the back of his head chanting “ _Emma is there too,_ ” but he tried his best to stomp down that particular notion. Until recently he wasn’t even sure if Emma remembered who he was; and his own feelings were shallow - based off of a crush developed through social media pictures.

But the last nine days had proven that his feelings were much deeper than lust.

He rolled out of bed when the sun rose above the horizon. He must’ve fallen asleep at some point in the night, but felt like he hadn’t slept a wink.

All thoughts of exhaustion left him when Emma came strolling into the cafe by the lobby thirty minutes later. She had her hair pulled up again with a light sundress and comfortable shoes - she was ready for their walk around the castle ruins he had planned for the day.

His smile was instantaneous, and it widened after she offered her own tentative grin.

“Morning, Swan,” he said, “Sleep well?”

“Uh, yea,” she said as she averted her gaze. He noticed her cheeks tinge pink and desperately wanted to know what that was about. “You?” she asked.

“I didn’t sleep a bloody wink,” he admitted, “That bed was awful.”

She laughed as she sat down with her coffee in hand. He knew she had to get at least one cup in before she could have a real conversation, so he let silence fall on them as he ate his omelette.

“How old are the ruins we’re going to today?” she asked after acquiring her second cup.

“Twelfth century,” he said, “The castle we are going to belonged to the lord of these lands at the time.”

“I’ve never scene a castle before,” she said.

“You saw Buckingham Palace.”

“That’s a palace, Jones,” she said with an eyeroll, “Totally different.”

“Whatever you say, love,” the endearment rolled off of his tongue before he had a chance to stop it. He was reward with another blush across her cheeks.

This trip was going to be much more fun now that he knew the feelings were mutual.

* * *

 

Emma had an amazing dream. She woke up wet and wanting and completely disappointed it wasn’t reality.

It was the first thing she thought of when he asked her how she slept, and she knew her red cheeks were obvious.

They spent the day walking casually through the ruins. Killian was a wealth of information - she decided she could listen to him talk all day (hell, she was pretty sure she could listen to him read the dictionary). A few times their hands brushed against one-another and she daydreamed of what it would be like if they were a couple strolling around hand-in-hand.

They were staying at a little bed and breakfast that night. It was nestled amongst the ruins of the historic area and was owned by a very sweet elderly couple. They misunderstood the reservation change when Mary Margaret had called to cancel their room and accidentally only kept one room for them.

It was a popular tourist season, so the two released rooms filled quickly.

Emma had assured them it was no problem, but as she set her bag down and looked at the queen bed she would be sharing with Killian she started to second guess herself.

“Don’t worry, Swan,” he piped up from behind her, “I’ll take the floor.”

She looked at the tiny space left around the bed and wondered where exactly he thought there was room for his long legs.

“Right, Jones. On the floor under the bed?” she asked sarcastically, “Because that’s the only place there’s room for you.”

He scratched behind his ear and looked around meekly. “Aye, you’ve a point, lass,” he shrugged, “Don’t worry, I’ll be a gentleman. You don’t have to worry about me leaving my side of the bed.”

She wondered if her facial expression matched her thoughts (she hoped not) - because her immediate reaction was disappointment. She was utterly ridiculous, of course. Why would he cuddle her? She’s just his best friend’s sister.

Something seemed to change in his expression as he closed the few steps that were between them. She realized her emotion must’ve slipped across her face as he stepped right into her space and she was enveloped in his scent.

He had a cocky expression, mixed with a seriousness she was having a hard time analyzing, while he picked up a strand of her hair and twirled it around his finger. “Unless you want me to leave my side of the bed, that is,” his husky voice came out as more of a whisper.

She didn’t have a response for him - too stunned to form words. He saved her from making a total ass of herself by abruptly dropping her hair and backing away with a flirty smirk.

“I’ll use the loo first,” he said as he grabbed his toiletry bag and gave her space by slipping into the attached bathroom.

“You think the rooms small,” he called cheekily, “Just wait, love.”

She laughed while trying to make sense of what had just transpired between them. He had been so careful to keep their interactions platonic for the last nine days, why the sudden shift?

There was still the problem of an ocean between them, she wasn’t sure stepping over any lines was a good idea - it was doomed to end in heartbreak. She only had five days left.

 _Five days_.

She didn’t want to go back to reality. Killian and her and been in a peaceful bubble for over a week and she liked it.

Before long, Killian came out of the bathroom in plaid pajama bottoms and a v-neck t-shirt (she had concluded he was incapable of not showing chest hair). “I call right side!” he called as he rolled onto the bed.

“What are you, five?” she asked with an eyeroll.

“You wound me, lass,” he said with an eyebrow wiggle, “I’m clearly at least 16.”

“Clearly,” she chuckled as she grabbed her own things to get ready for bed.

“This bed is far more comfortable than the motels,” he said as he shifted down into the blankets and fluffed his pillow.

“I’m so glad it meets your high standards, Jones,” she said as she closed the door.

She leaned against it for a moment to get her bearings - she had never felt the pull of want to this extreme. It was hard for her to concentrate, her mind keeps drifting to despicable things she wants to do with him.

As they walked through the crumbling walls of the ruins today, her mind lingered on all the possible surfaces he could press her against and make her scream his name.

It was inappropriate, and she blushed more than once as her imagination ran rampant, but she couldn’t stop her thoughts.

 _She liked him_. Damn Mary Margaret for making her admit it. Now it was like a curse - he lived in England. Relationships were already impossible for her - long distance was out of the question.

They couldn’t give in to the pull; she had to resist.

She slowly made her way through her nighttime routine; washed her face, flossed and brushed her teeth. She decided to throw her hair up in a messy bun to keep it under control for the night. She didn’t want Killian to choke on her hair by morning (it had been known to happen to her - he would be surely be doomed).

She re-emerged from the bathroom to find that Killian had turned off his light and curled up on his side with his back to her empty half. He was lightly snoring, already fast asleep.

It wasn’t likely she would ever get this opportunity again. She crept quietly to his side of the bed and took in his peaceful face as he snoozed away.

His jaw was relaxed and his mouth hung open just a fraction. The long scar across his right cheek almost seemed more noticeable with his face completely relaxed. She wanted to trace the line with her finger and trail lower past his jaw and across his collarbone.

He was unfairly attractive; but his smoldering looks turned boyish and innocent while he slept.

 _She liked him_.

Damn it.

She wasn’t supposed to develop feelings for anyone, least of all her brother’s friend. She had been happy all alone for the last three years. She had never once questioned her decision to give up on relationships.

Now she wasn’t so sure she would be content in her empty apartment. He ruined her and it only took him nine days.

As gently as she could (because she did _not_ want to wake him) she slipped into the bed and laid on her left side - staring at the gaudy wallpaper.

 _Five days_.

That’s all she had left. She only had to resist her pull to him for five more days. Then it was back home to Boston and her always-empty apartment.

She clicked her light off and fell asleep to the sound of Killian’s gentle snores.

* * *

 

Killian awoke to something tickling his nose and the smell of vanilla. He felt something warm pressed insistently against his chest and felt the gentle brush of her breath against his neck where her face was pressed. His sleep-riddled brain took a moment to come to a realization...

 _Emma_.

He didn’t remember her coming to bed last night - he was asleep before his head hit the pillow - but he was certain he was facing the wall when he crashed.

He finally risked opening his eyes and found himself in the middle of the bed with Emma wrapped in his arms.They must’ve rolled into each other at some point in the night.

Her mass of curls were piled on top of her head and pressed into his nose and mouth. It smelled like vanilla and he shamelessly breathed the scent in deeply.

 _This must be what heaven is like_ \- he thought.

He wanted this every day.

She wouldn’t be pleased if she woke in this position. It might risk scaring her back behind her walls, and that was not something he wished to risk. So, he gently extracted himself from the jigsaw puzzle they had created in the night and made his way into the bathroom for a shower.

He took his time in the shower - Emma was not a morning person and was much slower at getting out of bed.

If only the Boston office would call. He was pretty confident the job was his, but he didn’t want to make any promise to Emma he couldn’t keep.

He desperately wanted to ease her worries about the long distance. That was his last obstacle - of that he was sure. By now he was confident the pull he felt was not one-sided.

The bathroom had filled with steam, he struggled to keep the mirror from fogging as finished his morning routine.

Somehow he had missed grabbing his shirt for the day, but at least remembered to grab his jeans.

When he stepped out of the bathroom he found Emma wide awake leaning against the headboard. He tried not to smile too smugly as she stared, open-mouthed, at his bare chest. “See something you like, love?”

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, trying to find words - his smile only grew wider. “Uh -” she stuttered, “I - uh - It’s my turn in the shower,” she finally finished before bolting out of bed and past him with her essentials tucked against her chest.

It took every ounce of his control not to put his arm out and stop her. He knew why she ran into the loo so quickly, and he wished she would stop fighting.

* * *

 

Emma leaned her head against the door and tried to calm her breathing.

The image of his bare chest was burned into her memory. His dark chest hair travelled down the hard planes of his chest and across his toned stomach before it disappeared below the waist of his jeans.

He was even better than her imagination had conjured - and it had conjured up plenty in her dreams again last night.

 _She liked him_ … and more so… _she fucking wanted him_.

She had never wanted someone more in her entire life. It was a deep, burning, all-consuming want - she felt it right down to her core.

 _Five days_.

That was all she had left. She wasn’t sure she could last five days. It took every bit of her control to run past him and not _to_ him before fleeing into the bathroom.

 _Five days_.

She would be across the ocean, and out of his life forever in five days.

She pushed herself away from the door and started the water for her shower - determined to keep her resolve. If she caved - she was unsure her heart could recover.

* * *

 

They had spent the last two days since their impromptu sleep-over dancing around their growing sexual tension.

Killian couldn’t help but admire her self restraint. He would never make the first move, it had to be her decision; that was only good form, afterall.

He laid in his hotel room, staring at the ceiling - this seemed to be a reoccurring state over the past week.

She was once again in the room across the hall from his. His fingers tapped impatiently against the comforter at his side before he rolled over on his side and punched his pillow around.

Ten steps to his door. Three strides across the hall. Ten steps to her bed.

That’s all that separated him from her. That, and two doors.

He sighed, before thrashing around in bed to his other side. He was never going to get any sleep at this rate.

After struggling for what felt like forever, he sat up in bed. He stroked his hand down his face in frustration, before kicking his legs over the side of the bed and standing. After he paced around the room for several minutes, he grabbed his key card and slipping out into the hallway.

He almost knocked, but hesitated and leaned his hands against her doorframe instead. With his head bent down, he grumbled to himself about good form before pushing off of her frame and forcing his steps back to his room.

He couldn’t make the first move - he had to remind himself.

The door slammed shut behind him, and he leaned back against it before sliding down it and settling on the floor.

In three days he was taking her back to Heathrow. He would go back to his regular life, while she flew an ocean away from him.

He wished the Boston office would bloody call.

* * *

 

Emma was laying in her bed, willing herself to go to sleep. She suddenly suffered from restless legs syndrome, they were itching to get up and walk her out of the door and into Killian’s room.

It was the sound of a door slamming shut that pulled her from the bed (at least, that was the excuse she was going with).

She grabbed her key card, just in case, and opened her door quietly.

A glance to the left and right proved the hallway to be empty. The door sounded close - she could’ve sworn it was Killian’s.

She shut the door gently behind her and crept across the hall to his door.

All she had to do was knock. If she knocked, she knew he would pull her to him and make all of her fantasies a reality. It would ease the ache in her body - the one that begged for his touch, that relished in every accidental brush of his skin against hers.

But it was her heart she had to protect.

 _Three days_.

She counted in her head. Three days until she flew back to Boston.

She reluctantly turned back to her door and once again gently shut it behind her. If Killian was awake (which she suspected he was), she didn’t need him knowing she was too.

She slipped back into bed, and spent the rest of the night tossing and turning.

* * *

 

Killian had taken Emma to the most beautiful park. It was an unusually sunny day for the gloomy country and she was enjoying the flora and fauna.

Killian had excused himself for a phone call, he stepped far enough away that all she could hear was low murmurs. From his professional tone, she assumed it was work-related.

She busied herself with her camera, capturing the array of colorful flowers lining the walkway.

 _Two days_.

The day after next she would be on a flight, travelling thousands of miles away from Killian.

She was lost in her melancholy thoughts and didn’t hear him approach from behind.

“Swan,” his voice whispered right in her ear.

“ _Fucking Christ_ , _Jones_ ,” she nearly screamed, “Why do you insist on scaring me.”

He chuckled and shuffled back on his heels before giving her his signature eyebrow wiggle, “Because you’re so cute when you’re startled, love.”

“Really?” she asked, “And what makes me so cute when I’m scared half to death?”

“First of all, don’t be so overdramatic. You are not half dead right now,” he said with a smirk. “But, to answer your question,” he said as his face grew serious and he stepped into her space, “Your whole face flushes light pink - likely because you want to throttle me - but it makes me imagine what your skin would look like in another state of flush.”

He brushed the back of his finger along her cheekbone. The air returned to her lungs as she shuddered under his expert touch. He drew his fingers down her jaw and followed its path to her neck. She felt her eyelashes flutter as his finger dipped into the hollow of her throat before he continued, “Then you clutch at your chest, and purse your lips before releasing a litany of curses at me.”

A breathy laugh escaped her throat before she asked, “And that’s cute?”

“Aye,” he smiled, “You curse like a bloody sailor, love. It’s impressive, really.”

She was in a daze, her body was urging her to just give in. Every inch of her skin was screaming “yes” as his finger lingered on her collarbones and started back up her neck.

He had been so careful to keep his distance - she had relied on his self-control. What had changed?

“Killian?” she asked, her voice far more breathy than her liking.

“Yes, Emma?”

“What are we doing?”

He ran his hand through her hair, and she pressed her palms against his chest to keep herself steady. Her eyes closed automatically as his nose brushed against her cheek - afraid if she opened them this would all turn out to be a dream.

She shouldn’t be doing this; she was leaving in two days.

“Killian?” she asked again, she really needed to know, “Why now?”

“I’ve been trying to keep my hands to myself, love,” his breath danced against her neck as he whispered, “I wanted to let you make the first move.” She felt his hand that wasn’t occupied in her hair settle on her lower back, but he didn’t tug her closer. “You’re so bloody stubborn.”

She laughed, before giving in and pressing herself against him. “That still didn’t answer my question,” she spoke into his shoulder.

Her hand moved up his chest and sunk into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, his intake of breath shot a bolt of desire through her.

She wanted to hear it again.

“I just got some amazing news,” he said softly into her ear before pressing a kiss below it.

“Oh, really?” she asked. She was officially lost in his touch, his hand on her back became more insistent as he pulled her closer. “Do tell.”

“Mmmm,” he murmured, apparently in no rush to heed her request. He kissed a line down her throat and stopped at her collarbone before finally continuing, “Not yet.”

He backed away then, but kept his hands on her shoulder to keep her steady.

 _The smug bastard_ \- she thought - _He knew I would be weak in the knees_.

“Wha -?” she half asked, half sighed, “Er - so, you’re not going to tell me?”

Her brain was still buzzing with desire, she couldn’t believe he had teased her like that.

She felt him - hard and firm - pressed against her before he backed away, she knew he wanted it to. So why?

 _Two days_.

Damn it, she had to remember that. She only had two more days and then she would likely never see him again.

“Not yet,” he shrugged, as he took her hand and tucked it in his elbow. He led them in the direction of the car, “We should go check into the hotel and then have dinner.”

“Then you’ll tell me?” she asked. She was trying not to sound too eager; she knew she failed.

“Aye,” he kissed her on the cheek and she felt her face heat up, “I promise.”

* * *

 

 _He got the job_.

He knew he would, but he just got the confirmation. The company would pay to ship his belongings to Boston and give him a generous stipend to replace the larger items it wasn't worth transporting.

He would be in Boston within a month - three weeks if he has any say.

Pure excitement at the prospect of getting a fresh start made him forget himself. She hadn’t noticed him when he walked over, and he had to pull a childhood stunt and scare her.

When she asked him what made her so cute, he got lost in the moment. He pulled her to him and finally tasted the skin on her throat.

It took every bit of his control to step away from her, but the park wasn’t the place to reveal his news.

He and Emma had said goodbye in the hallway to get ready for dinner. He trimmed his beard and took a shower - chances were he wouldn’t be making it back to his room that night.

He smiled like the Cheshire cat - _he was moving to Boston_.

* * *

 

Emma fidgeted in her seat, frustrated with the attractive bastard that sat across from her.

They had ordered dinner and were eating their salad and he _still_ hadn’t told her the good news.

While she got ready for dinner she tried to think of what it could be. There was this small voice of hope that said maybe he was moving - Mary Margaret had hinted at changing address - but that couldn’t be. Convenient things like that didn’t happen to her; the universe liked to remind her of her place regularly.

 _But maybe this will be the universe paying you back_ \- that damn voice insisted before she tried to stomp it down.

The server came and picked up their salad plates and she couldn’t stop the annoyed sigh she let out.

“Problem, love?” Killian asked. He had a smirk on his face that said he knew _exactly_ what her problem was.

“You’re a jerk,” she grumbled, “You know what my problem is.”

“Oh,” he said, “That’s right. You wanted to know my news.”

She kicked him on his shin under the table and he jumped - jostling the glassware on the table.

“Do you want to know why I nicknamed you Swan?” he asked.

She had asked him that question at least a hundred times when they were youn; he never once offered an explanation.

He knew she wouldn’t be able to refuse - and he knew it would further drag out his torment.

 _Bloody bastard_.

“You’re just full of dumb questions tonight, Jones,” she huffed, “Yes I want to know why you call me Swan…. _Then_ you better tell me your news.”

“Alright, alright,” he held his hands up in surrender, “There are two reasons I called you Swan and you just reminded me of one moments ago with that shin kick.”

She raised her eyebrows in question - she wouldn't play his games anymore, so she was keeping quiet.

“Swans are ferocious creatures - they have teeth like you wouldn’t believe - and those bloody bastards will _bite_ if you aren't careful.” His tongue traced his lower lip as her eyes followed its path - which caused his smirk to increase. “The other reason was rather simple, really. I always knew you would grow to be a beautiful woman.”

Her face burned hot instantaneously.

“You far surpassed my expectations, actually,” he said with a shrug.

She was speechless as Killian scratched at his ear shyly - some of his previous confidence lost.

 _Two days_. _Only two days left_.

“I -” she stuttered, still lost for what to say, “Uh - Well,” she shrugged, a smile lifting the corner of her mouth, “You didn’t turn out half-bad yourself.”

The moment was interrupted by their dinner plates being set on the table. She cleared her throat and tried to focus on the task at hand and not Killian Jones.

They ate in relative silence - but it wasn’t uncomfortable. He still hadn’t told her his news, and she was trying not to be bitter at this point.

Their dinner plates were cleared and she found herself walking in a haze down the hallway towards their rooms. They were side-by-side tonight, instead of across the hall.

He stopped in front of her door; she assumed it would be the standard goodnight. But instead he leaned against her doorframe and smiled wide before saying something that tilted her whole world on it’s axis…

“I got offered a position in my firm’s Boston office, Emma.” He twirled a curl around his finger before tugging it lightly, urging her towards him, “I’ll be an official Boston resident within the month.”

 _He was moving to Boston_.

“I -” he rendered her speechless again. Did he do this because of her? No, this had to of been in the works for more than two weeks - Mary Margaret knew already. “Are you serious?”

“Aye,” he said as he pressed her back against the door - effectively caging her in, “I decided over a year ago I wanted a fresh start in a new city,” his right hand found its way into her hair again, resuming where they left off in the park, “Boston was my first thought - Dave was there and it’s always easier when you know someone in a new place.”

His left hand wrapped around her waist as he pressed himself further into her space.

“Mmmm, that is logical,” she managed to say as his lips repeated their earlier path down her neck.

“Mm’aye,” he half mumbled as his lips continued their torture, “So then it was just waiting for the right position to open up -” his tongue darted out as he found his way to her collarbone and she barely suppressed the moan, “- which happened three weeks ago.”

“So that phone call -” she lost her train of thought as his left hand wandered up from her waist and brushed the lower curve of her breast.

“- Was the Boston office letting me know I had the job,” he continued for her.

 _He was moving to Boston_.

“This isn’t just a really great dream, right?” she asked, before her brain could catch up.

He stopped his incessant torture, his head popped into her view (his hair more dishevelled than usual - _Was she running her fingers through his hair?_ She must’ve been, but couldn’t recall). He grinned smugly, “You dreamed about me?”

She rolled her eyes and shoved at him playfully, “Shut up, Jones.”

“Make me, Swan.”

 _He was moving to Boston_.

She smiled and licked her lips - his eyes darted down and followed before his own tongue stuck out and followed the same path on his lips.

In two days she was leaving… but it wouldn’t be the last time she saw him.

She grabbed the collar of his dress shirt and pulled him back to her. His lips connected to hers instantly as he walked her backwards and pressed her against the door again.

She moaned as he angled her head to the right and deepened the kiss. Her fingers grasped firmly in his hair. She was trying desperately to remember which way was up as her tongue stroked his and he groaned his appreciation into her mouth.

“Emma,” he mumbled as he kissed down her jaw once more. She finally regained enough bearings to realize his right hand was back in her hair, but his left had strayed lower and was grasping her ass firmly.

His teeth scraped lightly across her neck and she shuddered in his arms. “Killian,” she moaned, no longer able to hold back.

She didn’t have to… _He was moving to Boston_.

An animalistic growl rumbled from his chest - she became more emboldened as she lifted her right leg and hooked it around his hip. His hand travelled from her ass and down her thigh before settling under her knee and pulling her leg higher.

He pressed his obvious arousal through their jeans and right onto her clit with amazing precision. She clawed at his hair for purchase as she rolled her hips against his wantonly; desperate for the release she had denied herself for nearly two weeks.

“Inside,” he managed between kisses, “We… need to… go... in your… room.”

“Back pocket,” she said breathlessly - she hadn’t bother to bring her purse to the lobby restaurant, “Key card is in my pocket.”

Both of his hands dove into her back pockets at the same time - it was her own fault for not specifying. She heard the sound of him blindly trying to insert the card since neither one of them seemed willing to pull apart.

Before long she heard the telltale chime of acceptance from the lock and Killian was pulling her into her dark room.

He soon put her dreams to shame

* * *

 

_Two Years Later_

Moving to Boston had been the best decision Killian ever made.

He was back in London for the first time in two years. Dave and Mary Margaret were thinking about getting pregnant, and had always wanted to take the trip they missed. It made sense to get it out of the way before a little one came around.

That’s how he and Emma found themselves reliving the trip they took step-by-step. It was fun to reminisce in their room every night about how different the day had gone two years earlier.

He found it particularly interesting to find out where her mind had wandered during the ruins portion of their tour.

From the moment he moved to Boston and started his new life with Emma, he knew she was it for him. The diamond ring in his pocket seemed to weigh a ton as they made their way through the park where he received his life-altering news two years before.

It seemed fitting to ask here - Mary Margaret had agreed.

_“Killian,” she said, a soft pat to his cheek, “You are so romantic.”_

_“Do you think she’ll say yes?” he asked. He had never been so nervous in all of his life._

_“She won’t even let you finish the question,” she chuckled as she kissed his cheek._

They reached the section of flowers she was bent over when he snuck up on her, and he took a deep breath - _this was it_.

“Emma,” he said to draw her attention away from her camera and the bright blue flowers, “Do you remember the last time we were in this spot?”

“How could I forget,” she asked, a sly grin on her face as she ducked her left pointer finger down the opening of his shirt.

He grabbed her hand gently, he had to keep his train of thought and her touch was too distracting. “Our life changed last time we were here,” he said as he kissed her knuckles one at a time. “I knew - even back then - that I was hopelessly in love with you.”

She laughed, “No you didn’t.”

“Aye, I did,” he said, “I just didn’t realize it yet. You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Emma Nolen, and I don’t intend to ever let you go.”

This was it, he reached into his pocket as he knelt down on one knee. He saw the moment Emma realized what he was doing - her eyes grew wide and she gasped as her right hand covered her mouth, “Will you do me the great honor of being my -”

“Yes,” she said, before he had a chance to finish, “Yes, yes - Of course - a million times yes.”

He laughed as she tugged him to his feet, “You didn’t let me finish the question, for all you know I was going to ask you to be my partner in a crime spree.”

“I would follow you anywhere, Jones,” she said as she pulled him in for a kiss.

 


End file.
